


Love Crime

by PuppyWillGraham



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris, Red Dragon - Thomas Harris
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Domestic, Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Hannigram - Freeform, Injury Recovery, M/M, Murder Husbands, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, wordcount: 3k+
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 09:48:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4701551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuppyWillGraham/pseuds/PuppyWillGraham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long live Hannibal Lecter. Long live Will Graham. They're both dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Crime

**Author's Note:**

> hey, guys!
> 
> it's taken me a few days to let it sink in that hannigram is canon and murder husbands are endgame. i've been meaning to write this up and get it in fic form instead of just letting it float about in my head, so here it is. just a little something that i actually really enjoyed putting into coherent words.

" _Going my way?_ "

Will stares at Hannibal after the question is up in the air between them. It only takes a few moments of deliberation, not even that, to decide that he is. Slipping into the passenger side of the car belonging to the police, fresh bodies spread out over the warm road, the younger man is transported back to another time, another place, as far back as one of his first outings with the disgraced psychiatrist. It's just like letting Hannibal take a peek behind the curtain of the inner workings of the FBI, just like traveling with Hannibal in his Bentley and falling asleep, just like going back to Minnesota.

There was an air of finality within that journey, back then, the end of their friendship in Abigail Hobbs' kitchen, where she'd died for the first time. No, not died, but changed. She wasn't the same after that, but neither was Will.

During the journey to wherever Hannibal had decided to take Will this time, he falls asleep. It's hard for anyone else to believe, much less himself, that he'd be able to even entertain the idea of falling asleep in Hannibal's presence after...well, everything. But not just because it's in Hannibal's presence; because Francis Dolarhyde is watching, and the whole situation he's found himself in.

There's an air of finality here, too, just like when he'd ended up back in Hannibal's kitchen for the umpteenth time, but it's not the same as when Abigail had died on the kitchen floor, when he'd thought he'd end up dead. By some miracle, he didn't die. Just like Hobbs had changed his daughter, despite wanting to kill her like he had his wife, Hannibal had changed Will, more, again.

Hannibal had cut something out of Will, and he thinks the other man was trying to cut himself out, hence the stag heaving it's final breaths. That was the end of another chapter of their lives together, no matter how intertwined they were at the time, how intertwined they had always been, intertwined still, even now.

-

Will only shifts awake when Hannibal cuts out the engine of their borrowed transport and parks up, the brunette already able to tell the house must be one of the other man's multiple hideouts. They sit in silence for a few, tense seconds. Will wants to cut it wide open, let it bleed out, just like he'd been left many times.

Instead of speaking, they both get out of the car and walk up towards the house, but before making their way through the front door, they discuss the bluffs of the cliff eroding away with time whilst standing on the edge. Will calculates the survival rate of a jump or a push, and he can see in the corner of his eye that Hannibal is probably doing the same. He smiles, not all that grimly.

It's fitting that he'd be the last person Hannibal would bring here, perhaps the most meaningful out of the three.

-

Once inside the house, they separate to change clothes in different rooms, Hannibal in the main bedroom and Will in one of the bathrooms. The both of them also decide to shower. It would be rude if they didn't, in light of their guest's imminent arrival.

Dolarhyde is watching, of course, but neither say anything on that. Yet.

"What of the wife, Will? The son. Not enjoying the normality?"

The corners of Will's lips turn up ever so slightly as Hannibal broaches that subject, his voice hiding none of his jealousy now. He doesn't have to hide anything anymore. One of Will's shoulders raise slightly, giving nothing away.

"You know."

"I know a lot of things, Hannibal," Will decides to play the game, sitting at one end of the couch as the older man sits at the other."You'll have to be a bit more specific."

"She told you."

"I asked," Will can't help but to smile slightly, an eyebrow arching. He knows. _Oh, he knows_. "And she answered."

"How did it make you feel?"

"This routine, it's old hat," he responds with a laugh that should be bitter but isn't. It's...comforting. Like slipping on an old, familiar sweater. It makes him think of home, of Molly, of the life he tried to have, but just...couldn't. He can see that now. "It made a few things clearer."

"Put them into perspective," Hannibal hazards a guess in the form of a statement, and Will doesn't even have to vocally respond for him to know he's right. He waits for the triumph to set in, but it never does, instead he feels something like relief. "It was tactical, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Will feels free to admit, and he waits for guilt to set in, but it doesn't. He knows Hannibal is right, and now Hannibal knows he's right, too. He awaits a vague look of gloating to flash upon his face, but that doesn't, either. "I thought I could, put the separation behind me."

"I never have."

"I know," the corner of Will's mouth quirks up, a hand carding through his hair as he stands and moves towards the front window. He waits for Hannibal to move out of the room, presumably to get a bottle of wine, to breathe out, "I couldn't, either."

His curiosity expressed in the gallery back in Florence is sated.

-

Hannibal lets his gaze run over the vast selection of wines in the cellar of this home of his, already knowing which one he's going to pick. Carefully slipping it off of the rack, he rejoins Will in the main living area with the bottle and a couple of glasses. It's the very same bottle Will had given to him when he was unable to stay for his dinner party, having driven over an hour and a half just to tell the psychiatrist in person.

He can't tell if Will notices the subtle gesture or not as the other man moves away from the window and Hannibal moves to situate himself between the other man and the glass as if to shield him from prying eyes. Will wasn't the only one being tactical or strategic now, and every move between now and the end of this chapter of their lives together would be just that.

 _To the next one_ , Hannibal thinks to himself as he passes a glass to the brunette and keeps one for himself. It won't take long now.

"He's watching us." Will notes, and there it is.

"I know." Hannibal replies, and there that is, too.

He doesn't move, not until the bullet is lodged in his side and he goes down. Will doesn't move, either, not until Dolarhyde makes his appearance, but it's stilted. He greets Francis, Francis discusses his plan to change him, and still, Will stands there, watching, pretend gloating, right until he thinks he can drop the act.

He catches sight of the blade in their guest's hand and tries to warn Will with his eyes, but it's not good enough, and then everything happens too fast.

-

"It really does look black in the moonlight." Will is gasping, panting, completely out of breath, but he's never felt so alive. Not when he'd killed Hobbs, not when he'd imagined killing in the shoes of others, not even when he'd killed Tier. Even with a huge gash in the side of his face, his cheek numb, he's not paying attention to that.

Holding his bloody hands up to the moonlight, he relives in snapshots taking down The Great Red Dragon. It's like nothing he's ever felt in his life before. He's speechless for a couple of moments, until Hannibal is helping him up, and-

 _Hannibal_.

Will tilts his head up and smiles, unable to stop it, feeling completely overwhelmed. It was beautiful. Everything is beautiful. The way they'd moved in tandem; it was like a dance, possibly what it felt like to make love to the person you're in love with, and it was exactly what he'd been aching for.

"See? This is all I ever wanted for you, Will," Hannibal can't even look at him, unable to process what he's feeling, but he thinks it's completion. "For both of us."

"It's beautiful." It's all Will can say, voice breathless with another laugh. The way Hannibal is looking at him now is the expression of falling in love all over again. _You're beautiful_.

Reaching out for each other, it's mutual. Clutching at the other's shirt, it's mutual. Moving closer to embrace, it's mutual.

Will is more exhausted than Hannibal is, both due to the exhileration and ecstasy they feel from their kill together and from the loss of blood, and Will feels light headed enough to imagine Hannibal's lips press over the scar on his forehead. The way he'd been marked, for everyone to see. He knows better, though.

Will knows he's not imagining it, even as he rests his head on Hannibal's shoulder. Will knows that Hannibal was really kissing his forehead, even as he presses a kiss to the other man's chest and mouths,  _I love you, too_. Will knows they can't go further than that, not in this life together.

It's time to end this chapter of their lives; for Will to kill Hannibal Lecter and for Hannibal to take Will Graham down with him. It's a mutual decision as they move closer to the edge of the cliff, Hannibal moving to place himself between the edge and the man he's in love with. It's a mutual decision as they topple over the edge, Will passing out somewhere on the way down in the arms of the man he loves back, Hannibal taking the brunt of the impact into the water.

Long live Hannibal Lecter. Long live Will Graham. They're both dead.

-

Hannibal awakens first, washed up on a shore somewhere. He can't even begin to think where they are. He doesn't want to, no, he wants to take care of Will first, who is still unconscious not too far from where he was washed up.

Moving closer, he moves the younger man's hair out of his face to let his gaze run over it, repeatedly stroking his fingers over Will's defined jaw. A quiet groan of pain is the only noise Will makes as he starts to come around.

"Will," Hannibal's voice is quiet as he speaks. "We're alive. We survived."

"Hurts," Will struggles to sit up and speak clearly, clutching carefully at the side of his face where Dolarhyde stabbed him. "Not our best idea."

Hannibal thinks it's a joke, and he looks amused, despite their current situation. A hand pressing to his chest makes him look at the other man properly for the first time since before the fall, a silence falling over them, which he soon breaks. "Do you regret it?"

"No." Will shakes his head just the once, slowly, a constant ache in his jaw the only thing stopping him from speaking more.

"You're fine with this," Hannibal asks, but it sounds more like a statement, and it is. It really is. Will has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "William."

"No," Will does roll his eyes then, even though it hurts to do so. "Stabbed in the face, remember? Hurts to talk. But I don't regret it. Don't regret any of it. Fine with this. Fine with you."

Hannibal slowly spreads his arms slightly once he's fully sat up properly, once Will has also done the same, testing the waters. Part of him is gripped by a terror that this isn't real, that they actually died from their fall, that-

"I'm here," Will's voice is soft as he shifts closer carefully, more from trying to prevent more pain shooting through one side of his body and his face than because it's Hannibal, sensing the terror as if it's his own. It wouldn't be a lie to say it was. "I'm real."

Hannibal takes the other man up in his arms, for one perfect moment not distracted by thoughts of their current situation or hatching up a plan to perfect a new escape together, content to sink into another embrace with the man he's been in love with for longer than he's consciously known. He inhales Will's scent, and it feels like a peace he hasn't known in far too long.

Will nuzzles Hannibal's chest, his mind empty but for the moment they're currently in. They can worry about what to do next soon, but for now, he glances up and catches Hannibal's gaze to cup the older man's jaw. Hannibal smiles, in the way he only really smiles at Will, and Will is much the same with his own returned smile.

"It'll take me some time to get acquainted with this, our new life together," Will whispers. "I'll need some time."

"I know," Hannibal says, cupping the back of Will's head like he had back in his kitchen. It's a caress as tender as the tone of the older man's voice now, their foreheads touching and gazes locked intently. "I'll give you as much as you need."

Will says no more than that as he closes his eyes, knowing he doesn't need to explain himself, not to Hannibal.

-

The next time Will awakens, Hannibal has carried him to a small cottage that is deserted in the middle of a woodland. It's the perfect place to hide out in and recooperate during their recovery, both of the men grateful that everything seems to be fully operational, from the stove in the kitchen to the water supply.

"You didn't need to carry me," Will laughs, before wincing at the sharp pain thrumming throughout his face. "Please tell me we have a first aid kit."

Hannibal has placed Will down on the small couch in the living area to search for a first aid kit, which he finds in one of the kitchen cupboards. He makes his way back to the living room with it in his hands, a smile on his face at the look of relief on Will's.

"I ran you a bath, while you were still passed out," Hannibal says and motions for the younger man to follow him. "I didn't want to cross any boundaries."

Will thinks of the way he hadn't three years ago, before Will had rejected him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Will."

"But-" Will's brows furrow as he tries to get the words out. "I want you there."

It's a little surprising to Hannibal that he does, but he knew there was always a possibility for it to occur. It's not the first time he's helped Will to heal, physically. He follows the other man to the bathroom, turning away as Will slips his clothes off and gets himself into the tub.

"You can turn around," Will sighs and hums in content, looking the most blissed out Hannibal has ever had the pleasure of seeing him. "I really appreciate this."

"It's no problem." Hannibal says quietly as he lowers to his knees and leans against the side of the tub, arms crossed and chin resting on his forearms. He feels wet fingers press lightly over the back of one of his hands and turns it palm up, not surprised at all when Will's fingers slide to link with his own.

They sit there, in a companionable silence, hands pressed together, which Hannibal soon brings up to his lips to kiss each and every one of the younger man's fingers in reverence. "Such beautiful hands, Will."

"They're destructive." Will responds, voice lower with a lick of Southern twang wrapping warmly around the consonants.

"Resourceful." Hannibal supplies instead, kissing knuckles and licking away dried remnants of Dolarhyde's blood, no less than worshipful of what Will had achieved. With himself, no less. It really was beautiful.

Hannibal releases the hand after that, noting the way Will had relaxed into the touches, picking up the other to repeat the ritual. Will doesn't pull away. He can't.

"I'll help stitch you up after," Will promises. "I know a thing or two about bullet wounds."

Hannibal helps clean the blood from the other man's face with a content hum of his own, being as careful as he can, the touches no less than tender and adoring. He can see clearly now what the knife has done to his beloved's face, and despite them both killing Dolarhyde, he still feels a murderous, icy anger pouring through his veins much the same as when it had actually happened. Will can sense the subtle shift in the air.

"What, am I ugly now?" It's a terrible attempt at a joke, but Will had never really cared about his looks all that much before. He'd always hated the attention his young-ish looking face brought him when he shaved, though, growing a beard as some sort of defense against other people looking at him too much. He'd always been scared, maybe ridiculously, of what sort of attention it could bring him, of others seeing far too much.

"No," Hannibal answers smoothly. Not to him. "It'll scar, though."

"Another to add to the collection."

Hannibal is silent as he washes Will's hair, fingers gentle against his scalp in a massage, rinsing methodically, neglecting to break the silence until he's done.

"Scars remind us that the past was real."

Will merely nods and signals that he wants to get out of the bath once he's deemed himself clean enough, and Hannibal obliges him.

"I'll be in the bedroom, I want to check your injuries over."

-

Other than Will's facial injuries, the rest will heal nicely within the next couple of weeks. Hannibal can't do much else for the right side of his face, though. Will doesn't mind, for now.

"Go and shower, or take a bath," Will says as he sits on the edge of the bed. "I'll be right out here."

Hannibal stares at the other man for a few moments before doing as he's told, returning after twenty minutes, give or take. He smiles at seeing Will waiting exactly where he'd said he would. They switch places, the first aid kit in Will's hands.

"You're angry," Will mentions a few minutes after he starts stitching Hannibal up in return, his voice calm. "I'm not going to say that you don't have a right to be angry, but please relax while I finish these stitches."

Hannibal listens to him and exhales a soft sigh, his body going lax, and it makes Will smile a little crookedly as he quickly, but effectively, completes the task at hand.

Once the task is complete and they're both in comfortable, clean clothes, they make their way downstairs to the kitchen and dining area. Hannibal takes up a saucepan and ingredients from one of the cupboards and fridge as Will returns the first aid kit to it's home, the both of them completely content in each other's company.

Will sets the table for the two of them, pouring a glass of water each, before taking a seat to wait for whatever Hannibal has been able to cook with the limited ingredients available to him.

"Protein scramble." Hannibal introduces the dish in his particular fashion, and Will can't help but to laugh softly at what dish it is. Hannibal merely raises a brow, wondering what Will finds to be so amusing.

"Our first meal together," Will explains without needing to be vocally prompted. "Somehow it's fitting."

"Indeed it is," there's a twinkle in Hannibal's eye and if Will didn't know any better, he wouldn't have guessed that he'd done it on purpose as soon as he set eyes on the correct ingredients. "How fortunate."

They sit in another companionable silence together as they eat their meals and drink their water.

"You own this cottage, don't you?" Will asks when he's nearly finished, expecting nothing but the truth.

"Yes," Hannibal answers, telling no lies, not this time. "I wasn't sure when and with whom it would come in handy should my home on that cliff be discovered or compromised."

Will shakes his head. If the words had come from anyone else, he'd think they were pulling his leg. Thoughtful, he finishes his meal and beverage, leaning back in his seat once he's done.

"I'm glad it's with you, Will."

Will moves to stand and place the dishes and glasses in the sink before moving back to the other man, hands resting on his shoulders to squeeze gently, placing a kiss to the top of his head. "I'm glad it's with you, too, Hannibal."

"I'll wash up. You should relax in the living area. I'll join you shortly."

Will complies and makes his way to the couch, taking a seat in the middle of it and not budging, even when Hannibal returns. It hadn't taken long for Hannibal to rejoin him, and Will takes his hands up in his own, guiding the older man to take a seat next to him. For once, neither of them can pick up a strand of conversation, Will becoming tired due to still recovering, and all the both of them want to do in simple terms is cuddle up on the couch.

So they do, and it's not long before they fall asleep. Neither had bothered to keep track of the time, too distracted by the other being in their orbit, hopeful that it would be permanent rather than temporary on any level. It's all Hannibal had ever wanted, and the same could now be said for Will.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, and i appreciate any kudos, bookmarks, and comments left on this. any grammatical errors are my own and i apologize if there are any.


End file.
